Someone Who Knows Me
by fanohermione
Summary: Hermione pays a visit to her grandmother after erasing her parents memories.


I carefully pin my nametag to my dress, straightening it, knowing she would do it for me if I left it crooked. The lift carries me to the fifth floor ever so slowly, and when the doors finally creak open I stand still for a moment longer than necessary. My feet take me down the hall to the room marked 512, a plaque inscribed 'Granger' hung on the wall next to the doorbell. I knock instead, knowing my grandmother hates the sound of the chimes. Waiting patiently, I check my nametag once more, making sure it's completely visible.

The door opens slightly and Nanna peers through the crack at my quizzically. A quick glance at my nametag has her opening the door, "Jeany! My dear, come in, come in!" I had long ago learned to sign-in as 'Jean' at the front desk; my grandmother had refused to call me by my given name since the day I was born. As I am ushered into her sitting room I glance around, nothing has changed. Nanna busies herself with tea, calling out generic questions to me from the kitchen. School's good, yes I'm having a good summer holiday, my parents? They're fine.

I've never lied to my grandmother so many times in the span of two minutes.

"So, Jean, dear, tell me, why are you here all by yourself?" She sits across from me on the cushioned ottoman. I consider lying again, but that would really defeat the purpose of my visit, so I take a deep breath instead.

"Well, I wanted to visit before, I went on extended holiday," her mouth pops into a little happy 'O'. "I'm going away with some friends. Mum and Dad, well…" I don't quite know how to put it; I should have spent more time preparing what I'd say. "They're going on holiday as well."

"That's wonderful, darling! Where are you travelling to?" I can see it in her eyes as they continuously flick down to my nametag that she's trying to keep a handle on this tiny bit of information I've thrown at her. Who I am, who my parents are, those are the pieces that are slipping away from her. And that's precisely why I'm here.

Suddenly, the desire to tell the truth overwhelms me. I hadn't planned on telling her even close to anything, but the sudden need for someone to _know_ who I am, it overtakes me. I clear my throat and carefully set down my untouched cup of tea. She seems to catch on to the seriousness of my demeanor and she too sets down her cup.

"Nanna. There's a war on, and I'm…well, I'm involved, slightly." Instead of shock or surprise, she nods solemnly. I'm considerably taken aback by her reaction, but I continue on. "I've sent Mum and Dad away, so they'll be safe. I wanted you to know why they won't be visiting for a while." I clasp my hands together, waiting, watching to see if she'll understand. She's gotten a sort of far off look in her eyes and I'm sure I've lost her for today.

"Did I ever tell you that your grandfather and I got together during the war?" She asks suddenly and I'm confused for a moment before my emotionally riddled brain catches up. The war. _The_ War.

"No, I don't think you have," I near whisper, picking up my cup of tea. She does the same.

"He volunteered, the prat." She takes a delicate sip as I nearly choke on my tea at her words. "We had been somewhat of friends in secondary school, nothing more. He wasn't exactly my type. Unruly hair, obnoxious in class, always cracking jokes. Quite annoying actually. But for some reason, while he was out fighting a war, it was me he chose to send his letters to. I still to this day don't know how he got my address, or why he sent me those letters."

"So what happened when he came home?" I couldn't help but ask. My grandmother had never spoken of her relationship with my grandfather; he passed before I was born.

"Well, what do you think happened, dear?" She said with a chuckle. "Jeany," she began, not even checking my nametag. "Be careful, will you?" I nodded, tears pooling in my eyes. She got up to wash the mugs and I sat in the sitting room in silence.

An hour or so later, after looking through what seemed like hundreds of photographs, I stood by the front door. I hugged Nanna goodbye, and I held on much tighter and much longer than was strictly necessary, silently praying that she would remember me, just in case.

"Love you, Nanna." Her peek at my nametag nearly broke my heart in two.

"I love you too. You're going into something scary, I don't know what it is, and I'd rather not. But if your heart seeks out someone, write him letters Jeany. Before it becomes too late."


End file.
